I embarked on a journey roughly a decade ago to increase my culinary knowledge through cooking. My journey began with the most recent kitchen aid, Google. I would find recipes for dishes from around the world and try to re-create them. I have spent years now following recipes printed from internet sites and over time have even picked up a few cooking books to follow. Along the way I have developed a wide and growing taste for just about any dish from vegetarian to meals built around meat. (By the way, if you have not been willing to sample real vegetarian meals that have risen from cultures that are primarily vegetarian, then you are missing some of the most flavorful meals to set before humanity.… IMHO)
I have greatly expanded my interaction with so many spices, herbs, and vegetables that I have developed a more expansive palate. This has delivered me to a new relationship with my culinary pursuit; cooking towards an experience I’m looking for without the aid of a recipe. I feel this is the opening of the “creative box” of cooking and producing the meal I am desiring. Opening oneself to this approach in cooking feels like the way any artist may feel when they embark on a new project; whether a sculptor, painter, musician, poet, or novelist, this “creating” of a meal allows one to spend time in an “experiential activity” beyond just meeting a daily caloric count. It can also become an unexpected and educational endeavor in subjects like geography, history, and broader perspectives such as anthropology. And here is where I share an example of a recent experience of mine.
Sometime ago I was made aware of a grain that I was encountering in a few Italian recipes. My hesitancy was ushered out of the kitchen, replaced by my curiosity, and I opened a bag of this “ancient grain” I had recently purchased. I understand it is technically identified as Emmer, but more commonly found labeled as Farro. This grain, literally, finds its roots in what is known as the Near East’s Fertile Crescent. Believed to have originated in the area that we now know as Iraq, Iran and Turkey, the grain is known to have been cultivated in various parts of Asia, Europe, Northern Africa, and Asia. If you thought the name farro might be related to the word “pharaoh,” history may provide us a reason to make that connection. It is reported that when the Romans invaded Egypt in 47 BCE, they brought the grain home, where Julius Caesar declared it “Pharaoh’s Wheat.” It became a staple in feeding the Roman army until it was later replaced by higher-yielding, less labor-intensive grains, surviving mainly in the mountains as a “relic crop”, and possibly survived via the efforts of small poor farming communities. (Farro in Italian translates as Emmer.)
Today, farro is still an important crop in those Italian mountains, as well as in Ethiopia, and is utilized in foods in other parts of Europe, including bread in Switzerland and beer in Germany. The cultivation and use of this crop remained almost entirely in poor farmer mountain communities sparsely around the globe up until around the 1950s. In the 1980s, interest from consumers in Europe, and the United States, led to a comeback in this grain, as the health benefits became more widely discussed. Whole grain farro is high in fiber and protein (nearly twice that of traditional wheat) and high in many other vitamins and minerals.
So, if you want to venture into experiencing this grain, do as I have done, start with a dish you enjoy preparing and eating that contains brown rice and replace the rice with farro. It is generally agreed it has a slightly “nutty” flavor and maintains a rather al dente texture. You will also find many suggestions for use in salads, soups, and Italian dishes such as risotto and polenta. For you bread-makers, it is also ground and used for breads. As for me? I just really like it.
So, as you can see, this recent dish I made has been served on a bed of farro. In my next post I will describe how I prepared the salmon, including an introduction to the history and use of fennel seeds that I utilized in this dish. I also want to mention that when I post articles about meals that I have cooked, you will not find a “precise” recipe shared. Why? Do I think my “recipe” is some kind of secret? No, that is not the reason. The reason is twofold; first, you can find more recipes on the internet than you will ever need, or want, to use to make a dish for yourself. And second, I want to encourage you, as well as myself, to recognize that recipes should generally be viewed as a “guideline”. Be willing to cook towards your tastes and not what someone else, or a lot of someone “elses” for that matter, says is best. If you cook something and you, or those you’re sharing your meal with, don’t like it, then your meal becomes an opportunity for conversation. And then that conversation very well may lead to another dinner experience in the not-so-distant future! Enjoy!
Bon appétit……………